


Kiss-Sealed Envelope

by cathrheas



Series: Commissions [24]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fantasizing, Letters, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24803353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathrheas/pseuds/cathrheas
Summary: Dimitri sends Claude a friendly, innocent letter. Claude realizes that he's more pent-up than he thought.
Relationships: One-sided Dimitri/Claude - Relationship
Series: Commissions [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1753813
Comments: 2
Kudos: 114





	Kiss-Sealed Envelope

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for my pal Ze! Feel free to check out [my Twitter](https://twitter.com/cathrheas)!
> 
> Also...this is my 100th fic on this account. Not counting anonymous fics. So, it's not really my 100th fic, but whatever. Yayyy.
> 
> Anyway, I'm glad it was this. lmaoooo

Even in peacetime, it was difficult to get letters in and out of Almyra due to straggler bandits and weather conditions. Still, Claude got regular updates from his friends from the Golden Deer house, sharing news of travels and marriages and newborns. He was, admittedly, a bit jealous. Preparing to be the King of Almyra was a busy affair, leaving him no time to experience the lovelier bits of life described in the letters. Really, he hardly had time to respond to them. The Professor was an excellent leader, and Fodlan was destined for a bright future, but that didn’t mean she and Claude had any less work to do.

Still, he found the time. He’d read the names of the senders on each letter, then separate them into two piles: business and pleasure. He eventually got around to each one, just in case the more “pleasurable” letters actually held valuable information. It was just a matter of what got done when. The business letters were checked on throughout the day, between meetings and quick meals. The pleasure letters were read in the evening, in his personal office, until his eyes were too tired to read another word.

Ignatz published a book of drawings. Great. Hilda and Marianne got married. Wonderful. Raphael was...doing something? His letter was more of a recount of strange adventures than a life update, but he seemed to be happy. Excellent.

Even though some of the stories in the letters were “useless”, he was slowly remembering that “useless” didn’t mean “without purpose”. Sure, knowing that Raphael had eaten an entire bear didn’t  _ help _ him, but it made him smile, as the letter intended to do.

Dimitri’s letter, though...it must have been useless. And also without purpose.

At least, Claude assumed it was. He really didn’t think he’d hear from Dimitri again. They weren’t all that close during their academy days, although Claude...liked looking at him, sure. But they had hardly ever spoken, and Claude couldn’t imagine what Dimitri would want. Dimitri had been having a rough time, from what Claude had heard. Dimitri wasn’t fit to lead his kingdom, the Professor knew that, and so the kingdom had come to be ruled by her hand...leaving Dimitri with nothing. Claude didn’t want to “wash his hands” of Fodlan, since he knew keeping good relations with them was a must (and not too hard, given the Professor’s demeanor), but he saw Dimitri’s name sloppily written on the envelope and shuddered.

_ Well, here goes. _

Claude tore open the envelope with his letter opener, then pulled out the parchment that Dimitri’s letter was written on. It was written neatly, but with a few signs of haste. The letter itself was fairly tame, though. Dimitri, despite having everything taken from him, was sane, at the least. Perhaps Edelgard’s death really did do him some good, as morbid as it was to imagine that. He had taken up some manual labor within the kingdom, he said. Claude could imagine him, how well he had filled out. The muscles in his back strained beneath the hot sun as he picked weeds, planted flowers, hauled crates...

Wow. Claude knew his own mind very well, and knew it was  _ imaginative, _ but that was...strange.

Still, he kept reading. Dimitri admitted that he was lonely, but also admitted that it forced him to come to terms with himself, with his thoughts.  _ Good for him, _ Claude thought, with a genuine hint of pride. Maybe Claude could invite him to Almyra for a brief visit, if he could find a lull in his schedule. When had they last spoken, before that letter? They could sit down for tea, catch up...

_ Who am I kidding? _ Claude chuckled to himself. Admittedly, he had some ulterior motives. He had missed out on a lot of things after taking the throne, and a steady relationship was the most achingly absent out of all of them. Even if nothing long-term came of a visit with Dimitri, Claude would give anything just to touch him. To be touched. To view firsthand the result of Dimtiri’s efforts, his training, his hard,  _ hard _ work.

Claude laid a hand over the front of his pants. He drummed his fingers softly over his own bulge, feeling it stiffen. Then, he kept reading. Dimitri talked about Raphael and Marianne, two of his friends from the Golden Deer, said he was sending them a letter, too. Said he wanted to visit them.

To Claude’s shock (and enjoyment), Dimitri ended the letter with an open invitation:  _ The Professor offered me a place at Garreg Mach. I am unsure of whether I will return there, but should I go, I will send you another letter. Perhaps, on a diplomatic visit (or something similar), you could come and speak with me. Or—if I do not return to the monastery, that is—perhaps my travels may lead me to Almyra, where I would be honored to have an audience with you. We have a lot to discuss, I am sure. _

Now, Claude knew he was reading too much into it. But, what fun was it if he took everything at face value? Dimitri wanted to talk politics, talk war, talk weapons—or, on the more pleasant side of things, he might have wanted to discuss academy memories. No, no, that was all boring. Claude instead imagined going to Garreg Mach, watching the Professor gesture him towards Dimitri’s bedroom. Claude would go in, see Dimitri sitting on his bed. Hell, for the fun of it, he’d already be undressed. Bare, like the animal Claude wanted him to be.

_ I’ve been waiting for you. Let’s have our discussion, _ Dimitri would say, just before taking Claude in a kiss. And there would be no discussion, really. Dimitri would undress Claude, pin him to his bed, and show him just how long he’d been  _ waiting _ for it—

“Gods,” Claude hissed. The aching boner in his pants brought him back to the present. He tossed the letter onto his desk, untucking his member from his pants so that he could stroke himself. He had oil in his room, but he couldn’t move from his desk. It had been a while since he’d gotten so excited, and he wanted to act as fast as he could.

He stroked himself to full mast, coaxing a bit of pre-cum out of his head. It was enough to make his hand move a little more smoothly, although slowly, along his erection. His length was impressive, he knew that much, but he couldn’t help imagining what Dimitri’s would look like. The scene in his head shifted from a knight dormitory at Garreg Mach to his own office. He imagined Dimitri, standing before him, telling him to stand.

_ Bend over, _ he’d say. Claude would shudder happily in anticipation as he bent over his own desk. It had been too long since he’d been fucked, since he’d been  _ filled, _ and Dimitri...oh, he’d have the right equipment. Claude had no doubt Dimitri was well-endowed; Claude imagined him thick, but not too overwhelming, long enough for him to work with. In their academy days, he might have been clueless on how to handle it, but Claude imagined him in his older form, more experienced and more ready. He’d run his hands along Claude’s sides, down to his hips, then push himself in. Desperately, Claude would reach down to his own dick, trying to stroke himself. Then Dimitri would growl at him, just as feral as he was before.  _ Did I give you permission? _

“No, I...sorry,” Claude murmured, aloud, before laughing at himself. How desperate was he to indulge his fantasies so deeply? Still, he couldn’t help spitting in his own hand, preparing himself for permission from his disgraced king. “Please, Dimitri...let me touch myself, please? I need it, I need it...”

_ You don’t need anything but me, _ Dimitri would say.  _ I’ve got exactly what you need. You need to be bent over, fucked, punished— _

Claude’s train of thought went off the rails. In his fantasy, he was still being pounded cruelly against his desk, but in real life, he couldn’t help but stroke himself furiously. His free hand was gripping his chair’s armrest until his skin paled. “Yes, I need it, just like that—need you, Dimi. Harder, c’mon.”

Finally, his king was benevolent, although it might have been out of his own selfish interest. Either way, Claude was getting it good. He imagined Dimitri kneading his asscheeks, squeezing Claude’s hips so tightly that they might have broken, just so he could fuck Claude deeper. Claude rocked into his spit-slick hand, trying to imitate the feeling of Dimitri pressing him into the desk. It was never quite enough, but he had to pretend, his hand moving so fast that it was a blur.

_ The King of Almyra, reduced to a begging mess. To think I’m seen as incapable of being a ruler, when you fall so easily to a bit of flesh. _

Oh, Claude liked this scenario. Dimitri’s letter was hardly bitter about his status, and Claude was anything  _ but _ a pampered noble, but Claude thought it’d be hotter if Dimitri hated him, taking out his jealousy and rage on Claude.

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m...so needy, so easy, so let me...please, let me touch myself, Dimi,” Claude whispered to himself. If Dimitri was there, he’d be weak in the knees from every thrust, weak in the voice, too. His usual smart mouth antics would be reduced to babbling, begging. Really, he was almost disappointed that he was still coherent.

_ Moan louder, won’t you? _ A chilling, derisive tone. Claude squeezed himself when he thought up that line, and he repeated in his head again.  _ Moan louder, won’t you? Let your subjects hear you moaning like the shameless man you are. Let them hear what you’ve turned to. _

And Claude did, despite it being much riskier in real life as opposed to his fantasies. Well, even if a few servants overheard them, what would they do? He’d been gossiped about plenty already. So he let himself cry out openly, his back arching into his desk chair. “Gods, Dimi, I want them to hear. Want them to hear me begging for you to do me,” Claude groaned.

_ I know you do. Go on, then. Touch yourself. _

He imagined the relief behind finally wrapping his hand around his shaft, although he had been doing it for some time by then. It was different, though, in the steamy fantasy he’d dreamed up; it was so much more  _ satisfying, _ to finally lay hands on himself after being denied the pleasure for so long. Claude was a king, someone who could  _ demand _ the things he wanted and get them right away. But Dimitri had reduced him to a common slut—that word stung him so sweetly—who needed permission to touch himself.

“Feels good, baby,” Claude said. He wanted to finger himself, wanted to feel something  _ inside, _ just to try and pretend that Dimitri was fucking him. But he was close. He could easily cum just from his own hand, just from the thought of Dimitri being close to him. “Thank you, Dimitri, f-for letting me...gods,  _ gods, _ thank you.”

_ That’s right. Thank your king for allowing you to prostrate yourself before him. What a filthy display, Claude. _ Dimitri’s voice delivering that line was perfect for Claude, with just the right hint of mischief. 

“Thank you, my lord,” Claude gasped. He never thought he’d say something like that to Dimitri of all people, without a hint of sarcasm. And yet, there he was, near tears at the thought of Dimitri pushing into him, stretching him open, hitting all the right spots, and teasing him all the while. “Dimitri, come on, please—”

_ Show me, Khalid. _ Claude held himself tighter, his hand going faster and faster. He was deep into it by then. Dimitri didn’t even  _ know _ his real name, probably would flub the pronunciation like any other Fodlaner would do, but it sounded  _ perfect _ in Claude’s mind.  _ Show me how thankful you are. _

Claude hurriedly pushed his chair back from his desk, not wanting to soil the papers atop it. He didn’t have the mind to grab a handkerchief, though; he finished on his hand, the fabric of his pants. In his fantasy, he imagined Dimitri thrusting into him all the while, even while Claude’s legs were shaking from overstimulation. His cum would splatter on the desk, and Dimitri would  _ chuckle _ at him, laugh derisively at how easy the King of Almyra was.

Claude’s head fell back, his hand squeezing at the head of his dick. It had really been a while. Just when he thought he’d calmed down, his body would tense and quiver, and another loose string of cum would drape across his fingers. As he slowly came down, he would mumble “Dimitri” through his shivers, deep and wanting.

Cleanup wouldn’t be easy. Claude’s body felt heavy, sinking into his office chair, and he’d made quite a shuffled mess of his papers in a rush to keep them safe. Still, Dimitri’s letter remained in place, front and center on his desk. Beckoning him.

Belatedly, Claude brandished his handkerchief, doing his best to tidy himself up. As he did, though, he leaned forward, skimming Dimitri’s letter lazily.  _ We have a lot to discuss, _ he’d said. Yes, he’d definitely been talking about politics and noble trifles...but Claude had inadvertently made room for a conversation of a completely different direction.

“Yeah,” Claude murmured, crumpling his handkerchief in his hand. “Guess I better invite ol’ Dimitri over for a visit, huh?”

**Author's Note:**

> dimitri: hi claude! hope you're doing well! we should meet up sometime to have a chat! :D
> 
> claude: oh haha i get it. you wanna fuck me, is that it? don't worry, i'm picking up what you're putting down ;)


End file.
